


Case 168: The Adventure Of The Wrong O'Reillys (1899)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [216]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Boats and Ships, Destiel - Freeform, Detectives, Exhaustion, Fire, Gay Sex, Government Conspiracy, Johnlock - Freeform, Justice, London, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Nobility, Period Typical Attitudes, Trains, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-24 11:56:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17703845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ Two men die in an unusual fire – and according to a friend of Sherlock, they were likely killed in error. The great detective investigates and finds something unpleasant behind a seemingly motiveless crime – something that will lead to painful consequences for someone that he knows all too well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MelodyofWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyofWings/gifts).



_[Narration by Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Esquire]_

This odd little story came about because of a curious incident that had happened two weeks prior to my involvement in it. It had merited by a small paragraph in the _'Times'_ newspaper which John had only remarked on because it happened to have been placed directly beneath those social pages that he only very occasionally glanced at in passing if he happened to have the time and if the paper just happened to have been left open at that page.

I just _know_ that he is pouting at me now!

This case involved the fate of an old wooden warship, the former _'H.M.S. Royal William'_ which had been built far back in 1833. In 1860 she had been rebuilt as a screw-propeller powered steamship but the likes of the famous _H.M.S. Warrior_ had almost immediately rendered her obsolete and she had soon after been gifted to the Liverpool Roman Catholic Reformation Society, a charity that set out to house and hopefully retrain young offenders. The event in question had been the destruction of the ship in an arson attack into which the police were still investigating. 

I had thought little of it until we had an unexpected visitor to Baker Street. Lord Cholmondeley Fortescue.

“I take it that your cousin and Mr. Macdonald are well?” I asked. He grinned lasciviously.

“Very well!” he said. “Chas certainly chose well there; I have purchased a new house in Maryport just along the coast and moved in there with Fray's sons and his grandson. Ross, Rod and Rourke are.... wonderful to have around.”

I knew from Inspector Smith's last letter that they were rather more, and that he and his lover had had Mr. Macdonald's adoptive grandson Young Fraser over for a whole week recently so the young lord could 'christen' his new house. I had remarked to John that it really was terrible the way that some gentlemen were so smug over such things. He had smiled at that for some inexplicable reason. How odd.

“Unfortunately it is business that brings me here today”, Lord Fortescue sighed. “Or possibly business. I am not sure.”

We both looked at him in confusion.

“Do you remember my mentioning the O'Reilly brothers who brought me the Kingsport documents a couple of months back?” he asked.

“Yes”, I said. “Has something happened to them?”

He frowned.

“Not exactly”, he said. “Did you read about the burning of that old warship the other week?”

I looked at John for further information since he read the newspapers a lot more than I did. Some parts maybe just a little more than others.

“They found two dead bodies in the wreckage....” he began before something suddenly struck him and he looked curiously at our visitor. “Oh!”

“What is it?” I asked.

“The two dead men were identified as the brothers O'Reilly”, he said looking hard at Lord Fortescue. “I do not recall their first names.”

“Pat and Pete are fine, thankfully”, Lord Fortescue said. “After the last time you helped me I went to that lady that you recommended Mr. Holmes, Miss Bradbury; she put the fear of God into me although I could not say just how or why. She helped me secure them a house back in their homeland as well as good jobs, and came up with new identities for them both. I telegraphed them through her after the fire but they sent back to say that all was well and Miss Bradbury confirmed that.”

I had a sudden bad feeling. The trouble with thinking the worst in my job was that one so often had to live with being right. Lord Fortescue looked at me and nodded slowly.

“Yes, I asked Miss Bradbury that”, he said. “A minor official from a government department had been making inquiries about finding two men called O'Reilly in Liverpool recently, in the weeks before the ship's burning. I am sure that someone of your great talent can work out just whose department that was.”

Bacchus, I thought with a sigh. The same petty vengefulness as Ranulph at the end of the day; he must have thought that he could at least strike back at some of the people responsible for the fact that his evenings were still filled with visits to the hospital – Mother's sharp aim had curtailed some of his even less salubrious practices - and having to translate those terrible stories. Plus I still owed him for Brightlingsea once he was done with that suffering. If he was behind this and all, it would not end well for him.

“I am fond of those boys”, Lord Fortescue said gravely, “and I take great exception to someone trying to kill them. Plus there are the families of these two poor men slain on the ship to consider; both live in the city and are very poor. I will do what I can for them but if your brother is indeed behind their deaths and the effective attempt on my friends' lives Mr. Holmes..... I shall not be best pleased.”

“Do you need any bullets?” asked someone who was getting even worse in his advancing years. I shook my head at him.

John looked straight back at me. All right, I had had much the same thought myself!

֍

It was the following day. I had of course asked Miss Charlotta Bradbury to make inquiries into the matter for me, although I had suspected that she might be slower than usual as she had 'something big on'. I had also arranged for an extra delivery of cakes to her offices from the bakery that she liked, where all those nice ladies worked and who looked at me in a way that annoyed John so much every time we visited.

The two of us were waiting for the Birkenhead train at Paddington Station. Unusually for the Great Western Railway it was running late.

“How did the fire happen?” John asked. 

“The current hypothesis is that the fire was the work of one of the boys on board”, I said. “The Society kept strict records about who was allowed on and off the boat, although we all know that such systems can be circumvented. All the boys were accounted for afterwards.”

“I cannot believe that even Bacchus would be so stupid as to pull something like this”, John said. “That would be three times in the same year. He must have a death-wish.”

“Presumably he thinks that striking at someone he considers so far down the social rank may spare him any consequences”, I said. “And perhaps he thinks that now he is married I might be more lenient with him. He is wrong on just about every count. Lord Fortescue is a good man but, Inspector Smith tells me, he has a terrible temper when dealing with what he considers to be righteous matters.”

“Yes, it would be dreadful if he hurt someone”, John said in a voice that was somehow flatter than the Fens. “Do we know yet who the person sent from your brother's department was?”

“A mere flunkey, fortunately for him”, I said. “And he left the port before the fire; that is confirmed, so clearly someone associated with the charity and/or the ship is also involved. Which brings us of course to the most important question of all.”

“What is that?” he asked.

“As to whether I can make you scream loudly enough while fucking you on this train so that you could be heard through the gag that I brought with me.”

He looked am me incredulously.

“How can you come out with things like that?” he demanded.

“I will be 'coming out' with something rather larger soon!” I promised.

֍

I was perhaps beginning to think I may have overdone it this time. We were neither of us that young any more, and having drawn two impressive orgasms out of John's glorious naked body he was now panting as if he had run the whole length of Baker Street. Twice!

“More!” he gasped, his forest-green eyes almost black with passion. I wondered idly if he were truly some demon sent from Hell to tempt the angel after whom I was named, then decided that I really did not care. I eased the pleasurer out of him – the one that I had had engraved with my name; seriously anything and everything was available for money in London! - and replaced it with myself sighing happily as I returned to where I belonged. 

Impressively he started getting hard again, despite having come twice already. 

“Are you sure you can take it?” I asked cheekily, pausing only halfway in. “I know how you _older_ men have less stamina than us youngsters.”

He managed a glare at me then grabbed my arse and forcibly impaled himself onto me. How anyone could go through that many octaves in a single drawn out cry was impressive enough, and had I had any senses left I would have marvelled at it. Instead I just about had enough wit to reach down and undo my cock-ring, grabbing the base and controlling my release which had me arching my back in unending bliss.

Mercifully the Great Western's first-class compartments on this train were non-corridor ones, and I had both wedged the door closed and lowered the blinds. 

“Where are we?” John muttered sleepily as I wiped him down.

“Heaven”, I said, earning myself a most wondrous eye-roll. “Do not worry though. We are going all the way to the end of the line, and we have a solid hour of cuddling before we get there.”

He smiled at me before he realized. There was the Patented John Watson Pout Of Thorough Disapproval.

“Sorry”, I amended quickly. “I meant to say, _of manly embracing!”_

He looked sharply at me before we put our clothes back on again and he subsided into a..... manly embrace. Definitely not the other thing. 

“And stop with the damn smirking!” he huffed.

“Not a chance!”

֍

I had not known what to expect of the former ship-of-the-line when we reached New Ferry on the Wirral Peninsula, but when I saw the wreckage I was frankly amazed that they had been able to find anything in it, or for that matter that all the boys on board had been got out alive. The ship had been moored in a dry dock but even so there was little to suggest that this had once been the sort of vessel of the same class as the ones which had saved our nation at Camperdown, Aboukir and Trafalgar.

“The Society renamed it the _'Clarence'_ when they were given it”, John said, “presumably because that too honoured old Pineapple Head.”

He really was disrespectful at times. I would have to instill some more discipline into him. Among other things.

“You meant to say 'our illustrious monarch King William the Fourth”, I said. “He was not as fortunate as you.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Because your physical individuality is those wonderful bowed legs that will enable me to fuck you all the way back to London.”

And there was the rapid breathing again with some most wondrous whining to boot. I was so bad to him!

֍


	2. Chapter 2

Mr. Daniel Lemieux, secretary of the society which had owned the ship, was a short fellow in his early forties; bald-headed with nut-brown skin that suggested he spent a lot of time outside (which I thought odd) and a worried face (which I did not). He was grateful for our presence and had his records of the society's recent activities ready as I had asked.

“What I would like to know”, I said, “is how often or even if at all the boys kept on the boat were changed at all.”

He looked at me uncertainly, clearly wondering where I was going with this question. 

“There were no changes to either our staff of the boys kept on the vessel in the past five months, sir”, he said. “We have other places elsewhere in the area and generally send the boys to the ship for a full year. Some of course do not take to the discipline but they tend to be weeded out fairly quickly. The last one to leave was four months back.”

“That is useful in that it closes down one line of inquiry”, I said. “May I ask how you choose which boys to take into your organization?”

Mr. Lemieux nodded.

“Contrary to what many of our critics in the newspapers claim”, he said, “we are fully aware that the number of boys who are capable of being turned back onto the straight and narrow is relatively small. The saying 'once a crim always a crim' is, in my sad experience, mostly true. There are however some who we think can be redeemed, and when the police find one such they always invite us in. I suppose that it is in their interests in a way as it might remove a future source of trouble.”

“Is there more demand for places in your Society than there is supply?” I asked.

“Not really”, he said. “Although the _'Clarence'_ itself was a popular assignment; there were always more boys who wanted onto her than there were places. However that may have been because we insist that they complete a set of activities during their time with us before we will provide them with a reference, and because of the nature of the work 'ship time' counted for more than other activities. But it was hard work as well; those who came off after their full stint there with a reference had earned it.”

“How do you think those two young men managed to gain access to the ship?” I asked.

“Most probably by offering to bring the boys beer”, Mr. Lemieux sighed. “At that age restricting anything is seen as an incitement to rebel. Deliveries to the ship happen into the one cargo area but it might be possible for one or two fellows to slip away.”

“What will happen now that the ship is gone?” I asked.

“We will of course credit the boys with the time they spent on board”, Mr. Lemieux said, “but we are having to squeeze them into our other places so they are all suffering rather as a result. Despite what the newspapers are saying, none of the boys gained from the ship's demise. Quite the reverse, if anything.”

“How do the authorities believe that the fire was started?” I asked. 

“The authorities have found no evidence of arson”, Mr. Lemieux said, “despite what some papers have claimed. Unfortunately a wooden ship in this day and age offers so many chances for a spark to catch.”

“Was the ship insured?” I asked. Mr. Lemieux reddened.

“Sir....”

“I did warn you that I would have to ask all sorts of questions in order to establish the truth”, I reminded him. “Ostensibly the society appears to be a loser here unless....”

I looked at him pointedly. 

“No”, he said. “We did try to arrange something but the premiums for such a huge vessel were way beyond our humble means.”

I frowned. No joy there then.

“Another question”, I said. “How did you deal with essential things like haircuts, eye-care and such for the boys on board?”

“The were given three-monthly check-ups, so they were to have three during their year on board”, he said. “They had been taken off in shifts during the week before the fire, Monday to Friday, and given a thorough physical examination that included haircuts and any other necessary work.”

I hesitated before my next question.

“Did you always use the same people for these sessions?” I asked.

“It was not directly my concern”, he said. “But it will be in the records and we can easily check those attendant at the last one with the ones before. I have the lists here.”

He sorted out two sheets of paper and placed them side by side, running his finger down them both.

“Two of the attendant nurses were different”, he said, “Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Short were new, both recommended. And we had a new dentist Mr. Phelps, but that was because Mr. Harris came into an inheritance when his aunt died and was going to move to the Lakes. Although I understand that some relative of his may be contesting it as I know that he has not yet gone; he lives just round the corner from me in Dingle.”

“That is most promising”, I said. “I shall have to institute some further lines of inquiry down in London, but I am hopeful that we may have a resolution to why those two young men were murdered.”

He baulked at that word.

 _”Murdered?_ ” he said tremulously.

“I am afraid that this was a most cunningly planned and cleverly executed double murder”, I said. “Fortunately it will also be one that can be proven – if I am correct.”

“He usually is”, snarked someone who did not want to sleep much that night.

֍

The happy whines of the man embracing me were more pleasurable than any man living deserved to hear. But I was determined to do everything I could to earn the love from this wonderful man, who was currently trying to keep still to avoid the engraved pleasurer from earlier doing things to his insides that were making his eyes water.

“Love you so much!” he muttered. 

“Love you more”, I said, reaching up and flicking at one of his nipples.

As I had known he would he moved to bat me away, and that caused a sudden shift down below. I got my hand over his mouth just in time, and he looked at me with even more tears in his eyes. I was worried again that I had overdone things before he spoke.

“Cannot wait for the journey home!”

On the other hand......

֍

A few days later I and what was left of John went to the society's offices where we again met Mr. Lemieux. I may or may not have smirked very slightly at someone's more than slight difficulty in sitting down.

“Have you any news, gentlemen?” the secretary asked, looking curiously at the police sergeant that we seemed to have acquired on our travels.

“This is Sergeant Rainhill of the Cheshire Constabulary”, I explained. “I decided that it would be best if we resolved matters quickly. His constables have today arrested the man behind the murders of those gentlemen early this morning and are bringing him here.”

Mr. Lemieux looked confused.

“Uh, why?” he asked.

“You _did_ wish me to clear the matter up?” I said a little querulously. “And I did warn you that I always prefer to do things my own way?”

He looked at me uncertainly but nodded. Fortunately we did not have to wait long as we were soon joined by two more men, a constable bringing in a handcuffed fellow in his fifties who was clearly not there willingly. Mr. Lemieux looked at him in shock.

 _”Richard?”_ he asked incredulously. “You arrested our _dentist?_.”

“Of course”, I smiled. “My sources in London confirmed for me late yesterday that his inheritance story was a blind. He was paid most handsomely to smuggle those two men onto the ship, or rather to smuggle their corpses on board.”

“But why?” Mr. Lemieux asked, clearly bewildered by all this. “And how did he manage it?”

“That I do not know”, I admitted. “But I do know that they had been poisoned. And most unfortunately for the man sanctioning their deaths, killed in error.”

“What?” Mr. Harris yelled.

“Finding two brothers called O'Reilly in Liverpool is not that difficult”, I said, “and it is a pity that the government flunkey that was dispatched here did not do a better job. The dead men were Patrick and _Paul_ O'Reilly, while the intended victims were Patrick and _Peter_. Two men killed in error – but for you Mr Harris, the outcome will be much the same.”

“I didn't kill them!” the handcuffed man said sulkily.

“The law rightly views accomplices in a murder as being as guilty as the slayers”, I told him. “You will pay the price of your choices at the end of a length of rope, and the world will be a better place without you.”

The constables hustled him away. Mr. Lemieux looked shocked.

“He could have killed all the boys too”, he said at last. I shook my head.

“He had to use fire to hide the fact the young men were poisoned”, I said. “He made sure to start the fire-alarm once the fire was established, so I suppose there is that in his favour. But it will not save him from the consequences of his actions.”

֍

It did not, and he was not the only one. I assumed, almost certainly correctly, that Mr. Harris' silence had been bought by threats made against his family for he refused to say anything of what he knew right up until he was dropped. Not that it mattered as thanks to Miss Bradbury I knew full well who was to blame.

Lord Fortescue ran Bacchus down at one of his clubs and punched the rat so hard that he broke his jaw; it was really not a good year for my brother and I did allow John to have a celebration pie (or three) as a result. Bacchus was as a result of his actions thrown out of all his London clubs, a severe blow to such a proud man, but much worse was to follow. He may have thought that having translated nearly all of Mother's works into the other languages that he was fluent in, he was safe at least from that. But he had forgotten the fact that Mother's Coven – I mean her Writing Circle – consisted of eleven more ladies who wrote fiction that was almost as bad as hers. And it was only fair that as many people as possible around the world were able to experience that too, so.......

Mother also 'suggested' to the government that it would be a most excellent idea if half of a certain someone's salary was paid directly to his wife and the other half paid as lump-sums to two Liverpool families recently deprived of a bread-winner. She even generously offered to visit Downing Street to 'discuss' the matter with the prime minister, but they accepted her 'suggestion' at once. By express couriered return of telegram. Along with two bank slips showing that the transfer of money to the luckless victims had already been effected. How very wise!

Finally, John had to have a long sit-down on a bench on Platform Eight of Paddington Station when we made it back to London, although it was quite unfair of him to say that I at all strutted. And if I did, I had cause.

֍


End file.
